


Ritual

by Noir_Dix



Series: Dix's Ghost Stories [5]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Bad moustache commentary, Bondage, Branding, Cardi before Cardi was Cardi, F/M, Gen, Hair-pulling, Mad rat skills, Night Terrors, Oral, Other, The Doors - Freeform, The End, The sash, Vinyl porn, more oral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-26 20:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19776157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noir_Dix/pseuds/Noir_Dix
Summary: This story started out innocently enough... Then, the weird "I had a nightmare, we must do the kink ritual." somehow came into play.(I've been wanting to use his sash for EVER, though.)It's just gratuitous self-indulgence.





	1. Chapter 1

Basil Confessore Imperator was on his knees. He'd been stripped down to his trousers, & was riddled with the dark shadows of pox-marks. He had no trim little moustache. He had no dashing sideburns.

He had only deathly, sunken circles around his eyes; shot through with enough veins to look as though he had a profound drinking problem.

His mother stood behind him, gripping a shoulder in what he supposed was comfort, but was instead bruising him.

"Mama-" he began quietly. After this night, he would never call her so, again. "Why must I do this?"

They were in an old, ruined abbey. Twelve men wore long black robes with hoods, their faces concealed behind full black masks

"My son-" she began. After this night, she would never call him so, again. "To attain the wisdom of the ancients. For life eternal."

One of the men was banging away on something like a kettle drum, & another kept hitting a gong. It kept making him jump.

He was miserable. His little daughter, dead. His beautiful, vivacious wife, dead.

He didn't want life eternal.

There was a small bonfire, it lit the space with an eerie, dancing light.

"Mama, I should have died with them."

He wanted to cry.

"Nonsense." she tutted. "You were spared for a reason."

The men gathered around the fire.

"Belial, Behemoth, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Satanas, Lucifer..." they chanted.

One of the men pulled something from the fire, its end glowing red-hot.

He tried to hold his mother's hand, but, she pulled away from his grasp.

"Show no weakness." she told him, stepping back.

He stared, transfixed, as the man came closer with the brand.

An intricate design... of three sixes, clustered together three times.

_Basil, wake up. It's a dream, Basil. Wake up!_

A deep feminine voice. A voice he knew so well-

"Are you ready to swear right here, right now, before the devil?" the man asked.

_BASIL. WAKE. UP._

The man had pale green eyes. The same green as the one of his own.

"Answer The Director." his mother hissed.

"You share not the blood of ours..."

And, _The Director_ levelled the brand, heat still shimmering, at a less-scarred area of his chest.

He shot up, howling in pain, soaked in sweat.

"Thank the gods... Finally." She of the deep voice pulled him into her arms. "I can't ever rouse you from that one."

He trembled.

"I heard you trying." he barely managed, his teeth were chattering so badly.

"Shh... shh. It's all right. I've got you, now." she tried to smooth down his hair; peppering him with little kisses.

He whimpered.

"Oh, baby... Don't cry."

But, he always cried. The nightmare brought the events of hundreds of years ago crashing right back.

She just held him & tried to soothe him... cursing that she could never end the dream.

He sniffled; blood-tears flowing freely.

She started kissing them away.

She sat back, & words hung unsaid between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghost lyrics, much? 👻
> 
> The "brand" is due to the mark that turned up on the nekkid Copia backdrop.


	2. Chapter 2

"The Doors?" she finally gave in.

He nodded meekly.

She didn't bother with clothes; rising to mess with the record player. She had to bend to access the narrow cavity, where they kept their favorites.

"Very nice... Molto, molto carino." she heard him murmur, along with some downright suspicious slapping sounds.

She grinned. He recovered so quickly.

"You'll ruin your dinner."

The slapping slowed _a bit_.

"Sì, mama..." he grunted.

She rolled her eyes. So creepy. She pulled The Doors' debut album. She _really_ should put on "Soul Kitchen..."

"No."

"Just the one song, then?"

"Sì. We will start with that one."

She giggled a little. They always started with "The End." The record always ran out, & it shut itself off.

She came to linger at the side of the bed.

He was _dripping._ She raised her eyebrows.

"What?" he twitched. "I can't help it. You're naked, & bent over the record player..."

"The red, or the black?"

He grabbed himself again, thumbing his still half-covered slit. She watched his veins pulse.

"Rosso. Il nastro rosso che si lega..."

She pulled the red sash from the bedpost, & he got on his knees. He held his hands behind himself, waiting. He swayed a little with the music, as she set to tying him up.

_...Can you picture what will be?_  
_So limitless and free_  
_Desperately in need_  
_Of some stranger's hand_  
_In a desperate land..._

She didn't know why she bothered... he _always_ slipped loose at some point.

"Because you _like_ it, cara mia."

He had her, there.

She matched him; also on her knees, & began kissing his faded scar. He gasped, as she traced all the interlocking sixes of the design with the tip of her tongue.

She took her time. He was rather salty from sweat. She paused.

"You taste so good." she breathed in his ear.

He gave an odd little squeak, & began to struggle vigorously against the sash.

It wasn't a lie. He'd gotten into something vanilla, earlier. He tasted like some salted caramel confection.

_...Ride the snake, ride the snake_  
_To the lake, the ancient lake, baby_  
_The snake, he's long, seven miles_  
_Ride the snake_  
_He's old and his skin is cold..._

She reached down to caress him, starting with his balls.

"Per favore, sto supplicando..."

She continued to fondle him, gently tugging, reaching to press his perineum.

"Well... since you asked so nicely."

_...The killer awoke before dawn_  
_He put his boots on_  
_He took a face from the ancient gallery_  
_And he walked on down the hall..._

She began the odd maneuvering that ended up with her sucking his cock. At the tip, he started rambling in what sounded suspiciously like old church Latin. When she took his head into her mouth, he finally got loose from the sash & tangled his fingers in her hair.

Maybe it was because of the material being slippery... The clever old rat always escaped; no matter _how_ well she tied him.

"I have to play with your hair-" he panted, eyes rolling as she licked, & sucked, & went deeper.

"Ohhh, the blood of Jesus-" he grabbed her shoulder, forestalling her.

She looked up at him, listening to the needle raising itself from the record.

"Lay back. I'm getting an awful crick in my neck."

He did, but held her back; rubbing her shoulders.

"I'm about to come."

She could tell. She managed to get back down to lick at his veins, eliciting a tortured little moan.

"I know."

"It will be an unholy mess-" his hands shook as they went back in her hair.

"I know." she tormented his frenulum.

"Oh, God. Oh GodOh GodOhGod-"

He went back in her mouth, her hand working the extra. Words apparently failed him, & he started making "sad rat noises."

Which, were rather cute.

He ended up clenching his hands in her hair, as he came.

And came.

"Ave, Haeresis Dea." he groaned, finally, thankfully, loosening his grip on her scalp.

She swallowed. Again.

"I warned you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's really no excuse for this.
> 
> I seriously ♥️ The Doors, btw.
> 
> Could you tell?
> 
> Google Translate ftw.


	3. Chapter 3

He pulled her into a kiss.

He would happily French kiss her for the next hour or so, "loving his taste on her lips." She wound up on her side, with him still kissing her.

"So..." he finally paused, "What would you like?"

"You don't have to-"

"Yes, I do. Not to mention, I _want_ to."

She smiled.

"What's on the menu?"

"My darling-" he looked down, "No coq au vin."

"No?"

He shook his head sadly.

"There was an... incident."

She snorted.

"A chicken incident?"

"Oui. Very sad. The cock is temporarily- broken."

"More like, deflated."

"Mmm." he focused on a pale, pink nipple.

"I'm not in the mood for any more creampie, either."

"Not in the mood for- Really. How could _anyone_ get enough creampie?"

"Trust me, Mr. Niveous."

He grasped a hip & gently pressed her on to her back.

"I could just eat you alive." he growled, spreading her legs.

She had never known another man who could so thoroughly destroy what was generally regarded as a cute, harmless sentiment.

He started by gently fingering her, front to back. He paused at her entrance.

"Are you ready?" he teased.

She arched against his hand.

"Shall I tie _you_ up?" he slowly inserted his middle finger.

"No." she moaned. (She wouldn't get loose, so easily.)

"No?" he was mid-finger, & started in with his index finger. "Should I blindfold you, then?"

"No-" she shook her head.

He chuckled.

"Yes, you like to watch, as well... don't you, my pet?"

She found herself staring up into one of the mirrors under the canopy, desperately seeking to deepen the contact.

"Please-" it was her turn to beg.

He looked perplexed. "You want me to gag you?"

She shook her head again.

"You know I would never..." his fingers fully inserted, he twisted to thumb her swollen clit.

She clawed at the sheets.

"Ohhh, daddy-"

He fumbled, for just the tiniest second.

"Così brava bambina-"

He bent to tackle her with his mouth, still keeping his fingers in place.

She squirmed.

"Come for me." his moustache was wet.

She couldn't resist.

"Make me."

He began sucking & pumping his fingers, effectively ending her. She sank her fingers into his thick, chestnut hair.

She stared back at the eerie, mismatched eyes between her legs.

"Oh, wow... he started to withdraw, but, she held his hand in place.

"Don't." she panted.

He grinned mischievously.

"You're squirting."

She groaned.

"Most unladylike."

She rolled to her side, facing away from him, & he spooned her. He was generally the big spoon.

Right now, he was kissing her upturned shoulder like it was candy-coated.

His mouth was damp.

His moustache was damp.

She could feel her ears turning red.

"Aww... After all this time, & all the things we've done, I still have myself a shy little church-mouse."

"Oh, hush." she grumbled.

"Hmm." he hummed, happily. "And, it's spreading... How cute."

She tried to ignore him.

"You know... cute equals _fuckable."_

"You're going to have to steam-clean that moustache."

She knew he was fiddling with it.

"Nonsense. I'll save it for later."

She ended up giggling, & he pulled her back around to face him.

"Ti amo, così tanto." he said, running his fingers through her hair.

She pressed a kiss to his faded brand, & snuggled against his chest.

"As I do, you." she sighed contentedly.

FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 1 is kind of a neat little story base.  
> Ch. 2 is a multi-faceted glimpse of my weirdness.  
> Ch. 3 is just gratuitous. (And, what gives with chickens in my stuff?)
> 
> But, I enjoyed it. 😼

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, tell me what y'all think.
> 
> You know where to find me.


End file.
